


Lucky

by JeannieMac



Category: Law & Order: Criminal Intent
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2018-01-16 07:12:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1336678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeannieMac/pseuds/JeannieMac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex and Bobby, a few years on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lucky

**Author's Note:**

> This is a post-ep for “Acceptable Loss”, the Law & Order: SVU Season 14 episode in which Alex (now Lt. Eames!) appeared “on loan” from her new posting with the Counter-Terrorism Unit. It’s a slightly AU fix-it for the conversation that Alex had with Olivia Benson in the bar at the end, the one where she says to Olivia (about Goren) “All those years together...it’s like we were married” and Olivia says “...but you weren’t.” It takes place in the same world as all my other Goren/Eames stories, in which Alex and Bobby have been in a relationship outside of work since somewhere around the middle of L&O:CI Season 4.
> 
> I cherry-picked some facts from the additional clips NBC released around the time that “Acceptable Loss” aired, in which we saw a bit more of Alex and Olivia talking at the bar. E.g. I’ve decided that Bobby is, indeed, writing a book now that he’s left the NYPD...but he’s not doing it in a cabin in Maine, and Alex is definitely not dating a firefighter. ;)

Around dinner time, Bobby gets a text from Alex:

_Case closed, or as closed as it's gonna get for now. Having drinks with Benson._

He texts back: _Congrats. Have fun._

He spends the evening skimming through old case notes. Some days the book just pours out of him, ideas and memories coming to the surface in a jumbled mess almost faster than he can type. Then he just tries to ride the wave, get it all down; he tells himself he can worry about organizing and analysing later. Other days, though - like today - he just can’t seem to get into the groove, and the best he can do is chip away at the background research, theories of criminology, the factual stuff that he’s hoping will balance out the personal stories eventually.

A few hours later, his phone buzzes again.

_Coming home on the subway. ETA 45 mins._

_Huh_ , he thinks.If she’s not driving, they must have had more than one or two drinks. He hopes that means the two of them ended up hitting it off. He’s heard enough about the case from Alex to know that the cross-departmental collaboration was rocky, to say the least.

He’s half asleep on the couch when Alex comes in the door. He levers himself up to a sitting position, scrubbing a hand over his face.

"Hey."

"Hi."

"Fun night?"

"...Yeah," says Alex slowly, like she's not quite sure of her answer. There's more to it, then. He wonders if she wants to talk about it now. Hopes she does. She's hardly been home in the past couple of weeks except to sleep, and he’s missed her.

"Did you get dinner? There's food." He gestures in the direction of the kitchen. "I made that chicken and mushroom thing, you could heat some up."

Alex wobbles a little as she pulls off one boot and then the other; he can tell she's still a little tipsy.

"Yeah, we had snacks, but I should probably eat for real." She yawns, and pushes both hands through her hair. "I'll just go change first."

He watches her wander off towards the bedroom, fumbling with the clip on her holster as she goes. After a few seconds, he gives in to temptation and gets up to follow her. He stops on the way to start the leftovers heating up in the oven, and by the time he gets to the bedroom Alex's work clothes are in a pile on the end of the bed, and he can hear the tap running in the bathroom.

In a minute she emerges, in an old blue T-shirt and track pants, face scrubbed clean of make-up and her hair pulled up in a messy ponytail. She smiles a little when she sees him; hangs up the black suit and tosses a few things in the laundry basket, and then flops down beside him on the bed.

"Hi," she says again, and leans in to kiss him, soft and just a bit lingering.

"Mmm. Someone had a Scotch or several," he teases. Alex rolls her eyes.

"Benson was buying. Let's see you guess what kind, hotshot."

He considers for a moment.  

"I think...more research is required," he says, and pulls her back in close, cutting off her knowing snicker with another kiss.

"So?" she asks when they come up for air. She’s flushed and a little breathless; he thinks she’s beautiful.

"What was the question again?"

That makes her laugh, like he hoped it would. He rolls over onto his back, tugging her with him into a hug.

"Lagavulin," he says into the top of her head. Alex snorts, probably at his inability to let her challenge go unanswered, even as she settles into his side, getting comfortable.

"So...does this mean things ended on a good note between SVU and Counter-Terrorism?"

Alex makes a noncommittal noise.

"Good enough, I guess. Officially, I still think they have a dangerous tendency to ignore due process if it doesn't move fast enough for them...but unofficially, I totally get it." She sighs, her breath warm on his skin through his t-shirt. "The cases they see every day...I'd probably want to go rogue too."

He runs his fingers along her arm, tracing slow random patterns.

"Most of them have been with SVU for a while, haven’t they? It's gotta take a toll."

“Yeah. Benson’s been there fourteen years.”

“Wow,” says Bobby, genuinely impressed. “The usual turnover rate is something like three or four.”

“She said she can’t imagine doing anything else. But I get the impression she’s had a tough time, especially recently. With Stabler leaving and all.”

“How long were they partners?”

“Twelve years. According to the rumour mill, they were pretty intense, too.”

“Intense...meaning they had something going on outside of the job?”

Alex shrugs. “I don’t know. If they did, I’d guess it didn’t end well.”

“Yeah?”

“Something she said tonight. We were talking about you, actually.”

He doesn’t say anything, but Alex must feel his surprise, because she props herself up on his chest so she can see his face.

“Not like that, I didn’t tell her about us.”

“You could have,” he says. Now that he’s not on the Force anymore, there’s no need to be especially discreet. They’ve both found it’s a hard habit to break, though - especially Alex, who was fiercely private about her personal life even before their relationship became something that might get them in trouble at work.

“I don’t know,” she says. “I was kind of putting out feelers, I guess? In case she did want to talk about how things went down with Stabler.”

She grins suddenly. “Wanna know how we got onto you? She picked up on some things I did in interrogation. Turns out you’ve rubbed off on me.”

“Oh? How’s that?” He feels absurdly proud.

“Among other things, she caught me doing the Goren Lean when I was talking to our suspect…”

Alex demonstrates, tilting her head exaggeratedly to the side. He chuckles, picturing her doing it in the room.

“Wish I’d seen that.”

“I told her I learned it from you. I said, all those years we were partners - it was like we were married.”

“True on many levels,” he says softly. Alex smiles at him.

“Right. I figured I’d let her take it however she wanted…”

“And…?”

Alex shakes her head. “She just said… _but you weren’t_. And then she changed the subject. It was pretty clear I shouldn’t push.”

“Maybe she was just being careful? Or there really wasn’t anything between her and Stabler, apart from the job.”

“Mmmh. She seemed...sad, though. Like, maybe there wasn’t anything, but she wished there could have been. Or something. Maybe she just misses working with him.”

Alex is quiet for a moment, staring into space with her chin on her crossed forearms, just below his breastbone. He strokes her back, and thinks about Benson and Stabler, and how - if things had gone just a bit differently any number of times - he and Alex might have ended up like that too, on separate paths after more than a decade of partnership. Living separate lives.

“It just... made me feel lucky,” Alex says into the silence. She meets his eyes. “Lucky that we managed to get through all that together, you and me. That I get to come home to you. To this.”

“Yeah,” he says, and then he has to clear his throat because the feeling just crowds up and takes both breath and voice away, the way it does sometimes still, after all these years: awestruck gratitude for the miracle of the two of them lying together like this, the peace and bone-deep certainty of it.

In the kitchen, the oven timer goes off with a shrill beeeeeep. The moment shatters with the sound, and Alex giggles a little, letting her head fall back to his chest.

“Ah, domesticity,” she mutters. He grins at the ceiling and waits. Sure enough, a few beats later she says, “I am actually starving, though.”

He laughs, hugging her tight for a second. “Okay then. Let’s go.”

 

They make their way back out to the kitchen, and Alex serves herself a bowl of the leftovers. He pours a huge glass of water and pushes it very pointedly across to her.

“You realize I’ll have to get up to pee every half hour all night.”

“I’ll take that over your Scotch hangover tomorrow morning,” he says with an exaggerated cringe, and then leans away, snickering, as she flicks water at him across the table.

While she’s finishing up her dinner, he does their nightly perimeter sweep, turning off lights and checking doors and windows.  When he gets back to the kitchen, Alex’s dishes are in the sink, and she’s hitched herself up to sit on the counter, waiting for him. It’s an old habit, but no matter how many years go by, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to see her do it without his heart skipping a beat. Because in their personal code, it’s an invitation, as clear as if she’d said the words: _come on over here and kiss me_.

He clicks off the light, blanketing them both in shadow. She’s already reaching for him as he moves, drawing him in to stand between her knees. Like this, they’re as close to the same height as they ever get, and it’s so easy to bring their mouths together.

They make out in the semi-darkness for a long time, close and warm and unhurried. He starts to feel a little drunk himself, blissed out on touch, dizzy with the feel of her body relaxed and pliant in his arms.

“This is nice,” mumbles Alex into the crook of his neck. Then in the next breath, she yawns, so widely that he not only feels her jaw move but actually hears it crack. Whatever reply he might have made dissolves into a snort of laughter.

“Shut up.” Alex nudges at him, and he can hear her rueful grin in her voice. “You know I meant it, it’s just the booze making me sleepy…”

“So romantic.” Carefully, he outlines her face with his hands and kisses her again, quick and gentle. “Come on, then. Let’s go to bed.”

Alex makes a put-upon sound, but she gets down off the counter, and lets him chivvy her down the hallway. He takes his turn in the bathroom, fully expecting to find her fast asleep when he comes to bed. It’s dark in the room, but she’s still awake; as he gets under the covers, she turns towards him and reaches for his hand, weaving their fingers together.

“Hey,” she says drowsily. “I didn’t even ask how your day went.”

“Mmmh. Slow.” He pauses, smiling even though he knows she can’t see him. “It’s had a pretty good finish, though.”

Alex’s fingers tighten around his for a second. “Yeah.”

He can tell she’s right on the edge of sleep, so he lies still, listening to her breathing slow down and even out. His mind is quiet, half-formed thoughts brushing by like butterflies.

Alex doesn’t know it yet, but his book is going to be dedicated to her. _To Alex, for..._ but the problem is, _for what?_ There are no words in any language he knows that can encompass her, encompass this: luck, love, this rare, hard-won state of grace that’s the closest thing to real peace he’s ever known.

Just _To Alex_ , then _._ Or maybe, better: _For Alex._

*****

**THE END**


End file.
